Adam and Sam - Bringing Up Babies
by Peejy
Summary: Adam and Sam now are contending with two rambunctious little children.
1. Chapter 1

ADAM AND SAM – BRINGING UP BABIES

When we last saw Sam and Adam, they had just welcomed their first child, a son – nicknamed "Young" - into the household. Time had passed and had produced little Elizabeth, nicknamed "Libba." Our story begins now.

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Sam had enjoyed a wonderful day in town. She had lunch with Lori, Delores, and Mindy, went to visit with Doc Martin, and did a little shopping. She left Adam at home with Young and Libba – they were going to go with their father on a fishing expedition. Young, now almost four years old, just loved to fish, so he had been excited this morning when Sam left the house. Libba, now just passing the two-year old stage, was more interested in playing in the sand and exploring. Both children had an uncanny ability to talk in complete sentences (when they _wanted_ to) – even Delores was impressed at the sentences that these children could put together. Delores was pregnant again, and Mindy and Lori were expecting their first children soon. Sam smiled as she rode back to The Pines.

As she handed Fancy's reins to Ted, he grinned. "I wouldn't go in there if I were you." Then he walked off towards the barn to unsaddle and curry Fancy.

The noise was deafening as Sam walked up on the porch and approached the front door. Adam was an intensely good and loving father, and Sam wondered what could possibly be going on behind the front door. Gingerly, she opened the door. There stood Adam, his eyes darting everywhere. His hair was a tangled mess and he looked absolutely frazzled. Young was galloping around the house, screaming "Giddy-up" at the top of his lungs. He wore only his small boots and nothing else. Libba was completely naked and was under the kitchen table, dried mud around her mouth and in her hair. She was shrieking with delight as she watched her brother. Rascal, the family dog, was chasing Young and barking incessantly. A chagrined Adam looked at Sam. "Am I ever glad to see _you_! And what is it about wearing clothes that these kids _hate_ so much?"

"Cloves," repeated Libba between shrieks.

Young stopped galloping and stopped in front of Sam. "Hi, Mama! I'm riding like Papa does!"

"So I see," laughed Sam. "But I thought Papa was taking you and Libba fishing today."

Adam slumped in a chair. "I _did_! Young caught a fish. Libba made mud pies. She offered me one of her best creations, and I found half a worm in it. I'm afraid she might've _eaten_ the other half…"

Sam reached under the table and helped Libba to her feet. "Did you eat a worm?" Sam asked, trying not to laugh.

"Dunno," Libba answered. It was obvious that she would give the shortest answer necessary if she thought she might have done something wrong.

"Will half a worm hurt her?" Adam asked with a sigh.

"I doubt it. A _whole_ worm probably wouldn't hurt her." Sam giggled.

"Mama, I caught a fish!" Young said with excitement. "But Papa told me it was too young to leave its family so we let it go."

"Good for you and Papa," Sam giggled. "Right now, it's getting late, and supper needs to be cooked. You and Libba need a bath first."

Adam didn't move. He looked worn out. "Do you deal with this every day?"

"I usually have Susan to help me, but she and Rob are on vacation. I have to admit that these two are a handful. Now help me get them cleaned up."

Adam rose slowly and fetched the washtub while Sam heated the water. While she waited for the water to get hot, she wandered around the house and picked up the clothing the children had pulled off. She found a lizard in Young's pocket – the lizard was hurriedly put outside and then scurried away. Libba's pockets yielded pretty rocks and an arrowhead. Sam saved these to put in Libba's treasure box.

Young ran into the kitchen, remembering his lizard. When Sam told him that she had released the creature, Young looked sad.

"Young, that lizard has a family of his own. His parents would miss him and they would cry if he never came home. You wouldn't want that, would you?"

Young shook his head. "Will he find his way back home?"

"Of course he will! He knows _exactly_ where his family is. Now, get Papa and let's get you and your sister cleaned up."

Young, with Rascal close behind, ran to his father who had corralled Libba. Fortunately, both children loved bath time. The shrieking and barking had stopped. Rascal had swum in the lake, so at least _he_ was clean. Adam looked much calmer. Adam poured the warm water into the washtub while Sam removed Young's boots. Adam gave Young his hand to help his son into the water; Sam just plopped Libba into it. Both children splashed around happily, water going everywhere.

The children had taken baths together since they were tiny. But, at this particular moment, Libba's sharp eyes caught something she hadn't noticed before. She pointed at a certain spot of Young's anatomy, looked down at herself, and gave a puzzled look. Reaching out, she grabbed Young's most sensitive body-part and pulled. Young screamed and fairly leaped into Adam's arms.

"Why did you do that to your brother?" Sam asked. She was trying so hard to not laugh.

"Worm," said a cherubic-faced Libba.

Adam put Young back into the water. "No, sweetie, that's not a worm. That's part of Young just like his fingers and toes."

"Worm," repeated Libba. "Where's _my_ worm?"

Adam covered his face with his hands. Sam was shaking with laughter that she tried to contain.

"Libba, you are a little _girl_. You have different parts than Young does. God made your body special so you can have babies when you grow up and get married. Young is a little _boy_ , and he has different parts than you do. God made him special so he can help his wife have babies. You will grow up to be a woman, and Young will grow up to be a man. You must never grab Young like that because it's very painful."

"Why?"

Adam fielded this question, his lips twitching. "Because that's a part of his body that is especially sensitive to pain."

Libba thought about this as Sam soaped up a washcloth and began washing Libba's face and hair. Adam did the same with Young.

Libba looked at Young again. "It still looks like a worm. Does Papa have one?"

Adam smirked. Sam shot him a sly smile. " _All_ men have one. All _animals_ , too, are either boys or girls and have different parts to their bodies. That's God's way of making sure that new life is always created."

Both Adam and Sam tried their best to give a small anatomy lesson with correct medical terms. Neither child really cared and soon lost interest. But Libba, never wanting to deliberately hurt her brother, would never grab Young like that again – though in later years she would learn the use of a well-placed knee if she needed to protect herself.

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Supper was always a happy time. Young had a chance to talk about his fish and to explain to his father about the fate of the lizard he had brought home. Libba was fascinated with having found a real arrowhead. Sam filled Adam in on the news from town, being careful not to be too specific about the pregnancies of her three friends. After supper, Sam wiped Libba's face clean. Both Libba and Young had learned that this was the forerunner of going to bed and being read to or sung to by Adam. While Adam took the little ones upstairs, Sam smiled to herself as she washed dishes. She could hear her husband reading, so she hurried with the dishes and went upstairs and peeked in the door. Adam was in the middle of the bed, Libba was on one side and Young was on the other; both children were entranced at some childhood poetry books – with pictures – that they were familiar with and loved to hear over and over again. Libba's eyes were already beginning to close and Young looked like he was ready to fall asleep himself. But, as Adam closed the book, the little ones begged for a song. This was Sam's cue to come in and bring the guitars. She and Adam sang a lullaby for their babies until they fell asleep. This was a routine that was never broken even if Adam wasn't home – Sam would strum and sing alone. Sam lifted Libba from the bed while Adam tucked the covers around his son. He kissed him gently on his forehead. "We love you," whispered Adam and Sam. Young yawned. "I love you too."

Libba was tucked into her own bed, her brunette hair (which had finally grown in) fanned out on her pillow. Sam brushed a stray wisp of hair from Libba's forehead; Adam kissed her on her cheek. "We love you," both parents whispered. "Love," Libba answered. Before Sam blew out the lamp, she and Adam took one last look at their children. "They look like angels, don't they," Adam whispered.

"They _are_ angels," Sam whispered back. "Just not all the time."

Adam grinned. Rascal had dashed into the room and had taken his place on the floor between the two beds. "I guess Rascal is their guardian angel," Adam grinned.

Sam and Adam went downstairs quietly. Sam was working on some needlepoint and Adam was doing some ranch paperwork.

"Are you sorry?" Sam asked out of the blue. Her tone made Adam look at her.

"Sorry about what?" Adam asked.

"That we don't have the twins," Sam said, stabbing herself accidentally with the needle.

"We don't even know for sure that there _were_ twins. Or even _one_ baby," Adam answered, giving his wife his full attention. "Doc Martin said that it was too early to tell if you were really pregnant or not. And Libba's birth didn't help your insides any. If there _were_ twins, of course I'm sorry that we don't have them. But, the fact is, we _don't_ have them. I can't mourn for what we _don't_ have, but I can be happy for what we _do_ have. Maybe we'll have more children, maybe not. I'm content with our blessings right now."

Sam smiled. Adam always knew the right things to say.

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The only day that Young and Libba enjoyed dressing up was on Sunday, and today was Sunday and time to go to church. After Adam got Young's string tie straightened out, he helped Sam get Libba into her new petticoat. Libba loved the petticoat so much that she didn't want the pink dress to cover it up.

"You can't go to church in just your petticoat," Sam said as she tried once again to pull the dress over Libba's swiveling head and flailing arms.

Adam knelt down in front of his daughter. "You know what I think? The dress and the petticoat look beautiful together. If you put the dress on, you'll see what I mean."

Libba had learned a new facial expression and used it to her advantage when possible. She poked out her lower lip slightly. She also looked doubtful, but she knew her father wouldn't lie to her. Sam popped the dress over Libba's head quickly and smoothed out the skirt. Adam spoke again, a serious look on his face. "See what I mean? The petticoat makes the skirt look so full. It would be a shame not to wear the dress and show it off."

Libba's bottom lip resumed its normal position as she looked at herself in the mirror and twirled. Her face broke into a smile. She didn't even argue about putting on her shoes, so excited was she. Sam plopped a bonnet on her daughter's head; Adam tied the ribbon around her neck. Young watched. He was never jealous of the attention that Libba got, but he needed some positive reinforcement every now and then. "How do _I_ look?"

Sam looked at her son. "Young, you look just like your father. Quite handsome. Your hair has such wonderful waves, and that tie makes you look so grown-up."

Young took Libba's hand and led her downstairs. Sam looked at Adam and chuckled. "You certainly know how to handle your daughter."

Adam gave a deep chuckle back. "Females are females. They come out of the womb wanting to look pretty."

"Then how do you explain the fact that neither of the kids likes to wear clothes so much of the time? And how do you explain Libba's love of wearing jeans?" Sam tied her own bonnet and looked in the mirror.

"It's hot outside. Hell, _I'd_ go naked if I could! And Libba wants to mimic everything Young does. And wears. She'll grow out of it."

Adam and Sam joined the children downstairs. It was time to go to church and this family would be joining Adam's family in town.

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The doors to the church had not yet opened when Adam's buggy pulled up. He saw his father in deep discussion with Delmas and Drucilla. Hoss and Little Joe were talking to a gaggle of pretty, single young women. Adam helped Sam and the children out of the buggy and, in an instant, Libba and Young had run to their uncles. Libba, screeching loud enough to break the stained-glass windows of the church, launched herself into Hoss's big arms and gave him a tight hug. Young had more decorum. He attached himself to Little Joe's leg and wouldn't let go. Little Joe spoke first. "Well, Young, you look so much like your Papa that I almost didn't recognize you! How _handsome_ you look."

Young's face lit up. Of his two uncles, "Uncle Joe" was his favorite. Young and Joe shared something that didn't come from Adam – and that was a bit of a wild streak.

"Uncle Hoss, you're smushing my dress," Libba chided, poking out her bottom lip. "And you haven't seen my new petticoat." Hoss put his niece down. "Let me look at you! My, how _beautiful_ you look in that dress!"

"Look at my petticoat, too," Libba prompted. Inadvertently, she pulled up her dress _and_ her petticoat, revealing her round little tummy above the tights that she wore. Hoss didn't quite know what to do but he was saved by the arrival of his father. Ben poked gently at Libba's navel. "I can't see your new petticoat. All I can see is your belly button." Gently, he pulled the beloved petticoat down. "Why, it's a beautiful petticoat. And when your skirt is over it, the skirt stands out just like it ought to." He pulled the dress into place and readjusted the sash.

The church bell began to ring, and the extended Cartwright clan walked into the church and took up an entire pew. They made quite an impressive group.

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As the church members began to sing, Sam noticed for the first time that Young had his father's voice – just higher pitched. He sang with gusto, pretending to read from the song book. Libba, having heard the familiar words, held her song book upside down and tried hard to sing. She would never have a _wonderful_ singing voice but she could carry a tune fairly well.

By looks and by words from both parents, both Young and Libba had learned good manners. Though they were bored with the short sermon, they didn't fidget like other children did. They didn't have to be taken out of the church like some other little children who screamed and cried. Sam and Adam always made sure that they reinforced good behavior by complimenting their children. Ben was always very proud of his grandchildren and how they were being raised.

The last song was sung, and the church service came to an end. The parishioners filed out and all the children gathered together to play while the adults talked. Ben laughed as he told Adam and Sam about Libba's "petticoat" experience.

Sam thought the whole thing was hilarious, but Adam's thoughts were that Libba didn't need to be pulling up her dress in public.

"Oh, let it go, Adam," Sam scolded. "She's just a little girl. She means no harm."

Adam sighed. Sam was right. He just didn't want Libba to continue this kind of behavior. Maybe he would have a talk with her when they went to the Ponderosa for the usual large Sunday meal that Hop Sing always prepared. Of course, he never had a chance to bring up the "dress/petticoat" incident. Libba had other things to discuss.


	2. Chapter 2

Today, Ben had brought the buggy to church, and Young and Libba clamored to ride to the Ponderosa with "Pop-Pop." While Joe was deep in conversation with one of the pretty single gals new to Virginia City, Hoss tied Chubb to the back of Ben's buggy and handed Libba to Ben to sit in his lap. Young was delighted to sit in Hoss's lap because he knew that Ben would point out the creatures of the forest but Hoss would imitate their sounds. Young wanted to learn to make the same sounds. Cochise was left behind for Joe to ride home on.

Sam and Adam smiled as Ben clucked to the horse and very slowly drove home. Libba and Young would always be safe with the Cartwright family. Clucking to his own horse, Adam followed his father, Hoss, and the children. Libba's little voice could be heard as she talked to her grandfather, his arms tightly around her while he held the reins. Young was trying to mimic the bird calls that Hoss made. Sam smiled. "It's so wonderful to see how much the kids adore Pop-Pop and their uncles. I'm so lucky to be part of such a loving family." She turned Adam's face to hers and kissed him. _Hard_!

Adam looked forward and then backward. "Let's take a different trail to the Ponderosa." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively as he turned the horse off to the right.

Hoss looked back to check on his older brother. "Hey, Pa! Adam's going a different way!"

Ben looked back, chuckled, and said, "Maybe they just need some alone time on this beautiful day. Now stop looking at them."

"But, Pa! Hop Sing'll be angry if…" He stopped talking, blushed, and faced straight forward. "Let's watch the ground and see if we can spot some bunny rabbits," he prompted a backward-looking Young.

"Wabbits," parroted Libba. "Look for wabbits."

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Hop Sing was outside waiting when Ben drove up. "Sing! Sing!" yelled the children in unison. "What did you cook?"

Hop Sing knelt and hugged both little ones. "I cook bat wings and buzzard lips. Dessert is hundred year old eggs!"

"Yummmm!" both children giggled. They knew that Hop Sing was teasing them. He reached in his pocket and gave each child one fourth of a donut.

"Hop Sing," Ben said, rolling his eyes. "You know that the children shouldn't eat sweets before the big meal."

"Only little bit of donut," Hop Sing replied.

"What about me?" Hoss pretended to complain.

"You no need donut. You alla time eat too _much_ sweets!" Hop Sing scurried into the kitchen, leaving Ben and Hoss laughing as they heard the cook muttering in Chinese.

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Not only did the children have toys at the Ponderosa, they also had clothes to change into. Young would always be outside with either Hoss or Little Joe investigating things. Libba mostly stayed in the house with her beloved grandfather and one of her favorite dolls. Both children wore jeans here – eating was a messy business for them. Sam didn't want their "good" clothes to be ruined forever.

Hoss helped Young put on his jeans and shirt and a scuffed pair of boots. Young hurried because he wanted to see the barn owl that Hoss had told him about.

Ben was left to help Libba change clothes. "You look so pretty in you pink dress. And your petticoat makes a delightful rustling sound." Libba beamed. Compliments from Pop-Pop were special. Daintily, she lifted up her dress and peered at her petticoat. "Show everybody!" she proclaimed.

"Uh, Libba. Petticoats are not to be seen," Ben began.

"Why?"

"Um, because they are considered underclothing."

"Why?"

"Because women wear them _under_ their outer clothing. They're not meant to be shown."

"Why?"

"It's just the way things are," Ben said, struggling to get Libba out of her dress, petticoat, shoes and little tights.

"Mama showed me _her_ petticoat." Libba poked out her bottom lip.

"It's okay if Mama and Papa see your underthings," Ben prompted. "And it's okay if Uncle Hoss and Uncle Joe and I see them. But young ladies must be very proper at all times in front of other people."

Libba sucked her lip back in. She liked being called a "young lady." And she was soon dressed in her own pair of little jeans and scuffed boots. She wore one of Young's shirts. Grabbing her doll by an arm and holding onto Ben's hand, they walked downstairs. Ben sat in his chair and reached for his pipe. Libba loved to watch the ritual of first cleaning old tobacco from the pipe, adding fresh tobacco and then lighting the pipe. She particularly liked the smell of the tobacco. She climbed into his lap, her doll in her arms, and smiled as she heard the familiar "click" of the pipe stem between Ben's teeth. Even when she was all grown up with children of her own, if she smelled that same tobacco, she would remember her days of sitting with her grandfather while he smoked his pipe.

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Hoss and Young came in and were followed closely by Sam and Adam. Sam had a twig sticking out of her hair. Adam spied it and removed it, but not before Ben and Hoss saw what was going on.

"Have a nice ride, did you?" Ben asked, his eyes twinkling.

"Wonderful," Adam grinned.

Sam blushed. "Where's Little Joe?"

"He'll be home in time to eat," Hoss advised them. "We won't have to wait long."

"I caught a fish yesterday, Pop-Pop!" Young exclaimed. "But Papa said we should put it back in the water because it was too young to leave its family. And Libba ate a worm."

As Little Joe walked in the door, Libba's face lit up. " _Worm_!" she exclaimed.

Sam and Adam looked at each other. "She won't…" Adam whispered.

Sam sighed. "I'm afraid she will."

And she did.

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Libba looked up at Ben, her eyes bright. "Young has a worm!"

"Well, that's wonderful. Where is it?" Ben had no idea what Libba really meant, unfortunately.

"In his pants," Libba said, matter-of-factly.

Ben remembered back to when Hoss and Joe were small. He smiled at the thought. "Uncle Hoss had a frog and Uncle Joe had a salamander in their pockets. They were real proud." Apparently Ben hadn't been listening to what Libba was specifically saying. There was no mention of Young's " _pockets_."

Libba looked at Uncle Hoss and Uncle Joe, her eyes big and round and horrified.

"Pop, wait…" Sam tried to interject.

"But, Libba, a worm will get squashed in Young's pocket. He needs to set it free out by the water trough." Ben talked on.

"Pa…" Adam tried to get his father's attention before it was too late.

A single tear rolled down Libba's cheek. "But that will hurt him. Mama and Papa told me not to hurt the worm. Papa says it's very sensitive." She crawled out of Ben's lap and stood by Young, ready to protect him.

"Pa!" shouted Adam. "We were bathing the kids together and Libba discovered a…um…part of Young's anatomy that she'd never noticed before. She thought it was a worm and tried to pull it off. It hurt Young and we explained to her that she should never do that again."

The dawn of realization hit Ben. His pipe dropped out of his mouth and a cinder burned a hole in his pants. Hoss turned red as a beet and Little Joe went into a giggling fit. Sam covered her face and her shoulders shook. Adam tried very hard to keep a straight face.

"You mean that Libba thought…? Um, she thinks Hoss has a frog…? And Joe has a salamander..?" Ben couldn't make a complete sentence.

Adam nodded, a lop-sided grin plastered on his face. Sam had laughed so hard that she cried; Adam handed her a handkerchief to wipe her face on. For the first time in a long time, Adam watched his father's face redden. Ben looked at the hole in his pants sadly. And he was still speechless – but only for a short time. "Joseph, stop that giggling! Libba, come here, sweetheart."

Libba didn't move and poked out her lower lip defiantly. " _Don't hurt Young_!"

Finally, Ben began to smile. "I'm not going to hurt Young. I just didn't understand what you were telling me. Now, come sit with me and we'll clear up this misunderstanding." Slowly, Libba walked over to Ben and allowed him to lift her up onto his lap. She still had her favorite doll in one hand and planned to use it as a weapon if necessary.

Young saved the day. He had listened intently to the anatomy lesson given by Sam. He knew all the correct terminology of his and Libba's body parts and explained to Libba that he did not have a worm attached to his body. What he did have was supposed to be there and would grow there and would be there until he died. Ben, trying desperately to make amends, explained that Uncle Hoss and Uncle Joe – even himself – and every other man in the world, had the same body parts. Uncle Hoss's "private parts" did _not_ look like a frog and Uncle Joe's did _not_ look like a salamander. Looking at Libba's solemn face, Ben did stretch a point – he said that Libba made an honest mistake thinking that her brother had a worm attached to his body.

"It's not very pretty, is it?" Libba whispered in Ben's ear. Nobody else heard what she said.

Ben roared with laughter. And he would never tell anyone why. "I guess it's not going to win any prizes," he whispered back.

Anatomy class was over. Thank God. But with Libba and Young, one never knew quite what to expect…

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Hop Sing had baked three chickens, platters of vegetables from the garden, and there was lemon pie for dessert.

"Where are the bat wings and buzzard lips and the hundred year old egg?" Young teased the cook.

"Save for later. Good for snack," Hop Sing grinned and returned to the kitchen.

As Young rose from the table, he tripped over his chair leg and fell. He said something unintelligible – except to Libba and to Sam. Libba clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. Sam gaped.

" _Young Cartwright_! Where did you hear that word!" Young shrugged. He was not going to be a tattletale.

"What did he say?" Ben asked.

Sam's face was angry. "You don't want to know, Pop." But Sam strode by Ben and went into the kitchen. Voices were heard but the words were all in Chinese. There was a hush in the dining room as ears strained to try to understand what was going on. Sam emerged, ready to explain; her face had softened. But Hop Sing shuffled in, his face sad.

"Hop Sing velly solly, Mister Ben. One time Hop Sing clumsy. Drop heavy pan on foot. Say bad word in front of children. Another time, Hop Sing hit thumb with rolling pin. Say bad word again. Children hear. They learn bad word from dishonorable cook." Hop Sing bowed his head.

Young puffed up his chest. "I heard Papa say 'damn' and 'hell' and nobody fussed at _him_! Mama said it _too_!"

Adam clapped his hand over his son's mouth. Young was telling the truth. Apparently, the children heard more than anyone knew. Sam knelt down. "Young, 'damn' and 'hell' aren't nice words, and Papa and I will try not to use them again. When you and Libba are grown up, I can't tell you what you can and can't say. But what you said a minute ago was a really bad word. You didn't know that. Hop Sing didn't deliberately teach you that word, and I never want either you or Libba to say it again. Is that understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," both children answered solemnly. Hop Sing stood quietly.

"Hop Sing," Ben said gently, "please watch what you say when you know the children are around. You made a mistake. We _all_ make mistakes. This is one mistake that must not happen again. And that goes for me and Hoss and Little Joe too." Heads nodded.

Ben lightened the mood immediately. "Who wants to hear the story about the day that Young and Libba's Papa climbed a tree and couldn't get back down?" Everybody did.


	3. Chapter 3

Ben sat down in his chair, Young and Libba at his feet; Hoss, and Little Joe sat on the sofa with Sam sandwiched in between them; Adam sat in another chair. Ben began the story, looking into his grandchildren's eyes. "One day, when your Papa was maybe seven years old, he decided to climb a very big tree. Getting to the branches he knew would support him was the easy part. Getting back down was the hard part. I knew your Papa was outside playing, so I didn't worry about him until it began to get close to supper time. I went outside and called for him to come in. He told me that he couldn't. At first, I wasn't sure where his voice was coming from, but when he told me that he had a "problem," I looked up to where I heard his voice. There he was, sitting on a big tree branch. I told him again to get down out of that tree. He told me that he couldn't get down. And it was too far to the ground to jump from the tree limb. I knew from the sound of his voice that he was afraid. I was afraid too."

"You were afraid, Pop-Pop?" Young's eyes got big. He couldn't imagine his grandfather, with the booming voice, being afraid of _anything_. Nor could he imagine his Papa, with his strong arms, being scared to climb down.

"Of _course_ I was! But I couldn't let your Papa know that. So he and I discussed the problem. I told him that he could climb back down and that I would tell him where to put his feet and hands. I told him that we would work as a team. Your Papa was very smart, even then, and he liked the idea."

"So what did you and Papa do?" Young was impatient.

"Well, your Papa figured out where some good places were to hang onto with his hands. I figured out some good places for him to put his feet. It took a while, but your Papa came down all by himself. I was very proud of him."

"But you and Papa were _scared_!" Young said, sounding a little disappointed in the two men he worshipped the most.

"Young," Ben began, "there are times in everybody's lives when they are scared. Children _and_ grown-ups. Men _and_ women. It's how each person deals with that fear that's important. The idea is to not panic. Take time to think about the situation first. Using your brain is very important. Your Papa and I used our brains, and we used them together. And things worked out fine."

"Why didn't Uncle Hoss push the tree down?" Libba asked, using the first long sentence that Sam and Adam had heard recently.

"Uncle Hoss was just a baby," Ben replied. "He was in the house with Mrs. Oliver."

"Who was Mrs. Oliver?" Young asked, looking confused. He had just assumed that his Papa's mother was mother to Uncle Hoss and Uncle Joe.

Ben looked at Adam and then at Sam. Sam nodded. Ben took that nod to mean it was all right to talk about his three wives. "Little Joe, will you please bring me the pictures from my desk?" Ben asked, hoping he could handle this situation well. When Ben had the pictures in his hand, he showed the first picture. It was of Adam's mother.

"See, this is your Papa's mother," Ben said. He looked at Sam and saw her pinch her fingers together. His interpretation was that he should tell as little as possible. So he did just that.

"She got very sick and went to Heaven to be with God. Libba, you were named 'Elizabeth' in memory of your grandmother. Young began calling you 'Libba' and we like _that_ name too."

Ben showed the next picture. "Several years after your Papa's mother died, I married Inger, Uncle Hoss's mother. She went to Heaven too. And then I married Uncle Joe's mother, Marie. She went to Heaven to be with Elizabeth and Inger."

"Are they friends in Heaven?" Libba asked.

"Why, of _course_ they are!" Ben said as he smiled. "And they look down on our family and are happy because we all love each other so much. They are with us always, even though we can't see them."

"Are Mama and Papa going to leave us and go to Heaven too?" Young was concerned.

"Not for a very, very long time," Ben answered. "Look how old _I_ am, and _I'm_ still here."

Libba never missed a thing. She saw that Pop-Pop's eyes were filling with water. She crawled into his lap and put her tiny hand on his chest. "Your heart hurts," she said simply.

"Yes, sometimes it does," Ben answered truthfully.

"Is it okay if men cry?" Young was curious.

Adam answered this question. "Men have feelings too. Women cry more than men do because they've been taught that it's okay. Men are told to never show tears and that's wrong thinking. Men are supposed to be tough and brave. But they can cry, too. They just are careful who sees them do it. It's not a sign of weakness. As a matter of fact, when you and Libba were born, I cried. I cried because I was so happy!"

Young looked at his father and made a face. "You cried because Libba didn't have any _hair_ on her head!"

This was the perfect tension breaker. Adam jumped up and hoisted Young in the air by his heels. Young squealed with laughter – such a happy sound that it was contagious.

Ben looked at Sam, saw her smile and nod – apparently he had handled the situation well.

Hop Sing entered the room. So much time had passed, he had cooked another meal. The subject of death and tears wasn't brought up again.

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During the unplanned evening meal, Young asked what his Papa had been like growing up. This was a question that even Sam was interested in hearing about. Ben smiled. "Your Papa was a very intelligent boy. He loved to read – all different kinds of books. Books about different places in the world. Books about different kinds of people and about their lives. Poetry books. Books about building all different kinds of things. Books about all kinds of animals. He wanted to know how to take things apart and then how to put them back together. I had a clock in my bedroom, and he used to take all of its parts out and then put it back together. I didn't even know he was doing it until one day I noticed it was working just fine except for the fact that it was running backwards. He took it apart again and made it work right. He loved school. He studied hard and got good grades. He had very good manners and was always respectful. He had lots of friends. He loved to go fishing. He especially loved riding. When he was sixteen or so, he knew more about horses than a lot of grown men knew. He loved funny jokes and he loved to laugh. He loved to play games – especially cribbage and chess."

Libba stopped chasing the peas on her plate. "Papa's strong."

"Yes, he is," Ben replied. "He's strong on the outside because he's done a lot of chores in his lifetime – chopping wood and mending fences and chopping down trees that go to the lumber mill. That kind of work builds lots of muscles. And he's strong on the inside too. He has a good sense of right and wrong. Like everybody, he's made a lot of mistakes in his life, but he learned from them. He stands up for what he believes in. He doesn't lie about anything. People respect your Papa. That's the thing that's most important – respect that one has _earned_ from other people."

"Was he ever bad?" Sam asked, wrinkling her nose.

Ben chuckled. "He may have done some bad things but he wasn't bad _himself_."

Sam pushed the subject. "What bad things did he do?" She had a method to her madness. She didn't want Young and Libba to think that their father was perfect.

"I can answer that question," Adam interjected. "I took some candy from the store, a whole lot of candy. I ate most of it in a hurry. Pop-Pop found the candy that was left under my pillow and asked me where it had come from. Well, I didn't want Pop-Pop to know I was a thief, so I lied and said I didn't know where it had come from. And you know what happened? I got my fanny spanked really hard. Pop-Pop told me that stealing was wrong but _lying_ about it was even _worse_."

Libba and Young looked at their father, goggle-eyed. They had never been spanked – they had never _needed_ a spanking. The thing they hated the worst was the dreaded "talking to" that they got if they did something wrong.

"Pop-Pop told me that I could always tell him the truth. He might get upset about something I'd done, but I could always expect for him to be angry if I told a lie. And the next day, I had to go to the store – all by myself – and tell the storekeeper that I had stolen a bunch of candy and that I would do whatever work it took to pay for what I'd done. I ended up having to sweep the store and put cans on shelves and dust the display cases for a whole day!"

Young and Libba were impressed. So was Sam. How interesting it was to hear Ben and Adam talk so openly and honestly. And it was good for both Young and Libba to see that there are consequences to doing something wrong.

Soon it was time to take the little ones home. Young fought to stay awake and give hugs to everybody, but Libba finally drifted off to sleep in Ben's lap. Gently, he handed his granddaughter to Sam as she sat in the buggy. Sam blew Ben a kiss; Adam pulled away slowly.

"It's been a rather interesting day," Adam said with a wry grin.

"Indeed it has," Sam giggled. "The kids will now take separate baths. And we'll have to watch our own language."

"Exactly _what_ did Young say in Chinese?" Adam asked.

Sam told him.

" _Oh, my God!"_ was all Adam could say. "I didn't know that word until I was in college!"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Adam was standing in the bedroom in front of the mirror, pants slung low on his hips, and was busy shaving. Young watched in fascination as his father made the razor glide over his face.

"Does that hurt?" Young was curious.

"It stings a little but it has to be done." Adam smiled at his son.

"What happens if you don't shave every day?" Young was mesmerized.

"Well, I would grow a beard. Some men have beards and some don't."

"Can I shave now?" Young was anxious to do what his father did.

Adam laughed. "Not right now. When you get older, you'll have hair on your face. You can choose to shave it off, or you can grow a mustache, or you can grow a mustache and a beard." Adam finished shaving, closed the razor, and splashed water on his face to rinse off the shaving soap. Water dripped down onto his chest.

Libba came prancing in the room with nothing on but her boots. She carried a doll which was completely naked.

Adam looked at her and shook his head. "Why can't you wear clothes like other little girls? And your doll needs clothes too."

"Don't like cloves," Libba said as she sat down next to her brother. "No cloves for Mandy (the doll), either." She poked out her bottom lip.

"Libba, you are a young lady. All young ladies wear clothes. And Mandy has so many pretty little dresses to wear. Maybe Mama will make you dresses that match."

Sam rushed in, her hands full of clothing for both Libba and the doll. "Honestly, Adam, your daughter runs like a deer. I can't keep up with her!" Sam rolled her eyes.

"Uh-huh," Adam grinned. "Libba is only _my_ daughter now?"

Adam took Mandy's clothes from Sam. "I'll dress Mandy. You can dress Libba."

With that, Libba dashed out of the room, clomping in her boots as she ran. Sam ran after her.

Young looked at his father. "You have lots of hair on your chest."

"Yep," Adam replied, dressing Mandy (which was a much easier job than dressing Libba).

"Will I have hair on my chest too?" Young was full of questions today.

"Maybe. Probably. When you get older."

"Uncle Joe doesn't have any hair on his chest," Young pointed out.

"No, he doesn't. Some men have it and some men don't."

Young thought. "Uncle Hoss has hair on his _back_ too! And Pop-Pop's hair is white. What color will mine be and how much will I have?"

Young looked so serious; Adam made sure he didn't laugh when he answered. "A man never knows what he will or will not have until the time comes. It's a guessing game. I wish I had a better answer, but that's the best answer I have to give you."

"Okay," Young said, satisfied.

At this point, Libba launched herself through the door and landed in her parents' big bed. She was followed closely by Sam, a thoroughly frustrated look on her face. She was tired of chasing Libba around and not being able to catch her.

"Adam, _do_ something!"

Libba saw her father approaching the bed and immediately pulled the covers over her head. Adam pulled them down and gently dragged his daughter from her hiding place. "Libba, we have to talk," Adam said sternly.

Out went Libba's lip. She hated these "talks." "Can I get _spanked_ instead?" she asked.

"No. There will be no spanking. But this running around without any clothes on is not appropriate. There are things that people have to do, and one of them is to wear clothes. I don't care if you wear a dress, or a skirt and blouse, or jeans and a shirt. Shoes or boots will protect your feet from hurtful things. But from now on, you will wear clothes. You will _not_ make your mother chase you to dress you. You can choose what you want to wear and Mama will help you get dressed. You aren't a baby any more, and it's time you started acting more grown up. If you don't do what I say – and what Mama says – then you will be punished. Do you understand me?"

Libba looked at her father slyly. "What _kind_ of punishment?"

Adam sidestepped a direct answer. "Think of what you like the most. That will be taken away from you for a while."

A frown, reminiscent of one of Sam's facial expressions, crossed Libba's face. She sighed. "Okay, Papa."

But Young couldn't help but giggle. "Libba's in trouble," he chanted.

Adam turned to his son. "And the same thing goes for _you_ , young man. You will find that good behavior is much better than bad behavior."

Young stopped giggling. "Yes, sir," he said solemnly.

Never again did Sam or Adam have a problem with naked children running amok. They had other things to watch out for.


	4. Chapter 4

Young and Libba, fully dressed, escaped to the barn and began one of their favorite chores – currying Sport and Fancy.

"Papa sounded angry," Young said.

"Uh-huh," Libba answered.

"Wonder what our punishment would be?" Young was thinking hard.

"Dunno."

"I want a pony of my own," Young stated.

"Me too!" Libba smiled.

Young was quiet for a moment. "And I wanna shave like Papa. And have a hairy chest and arms like Papa."

Libba brightened. "Me too!" And she raced into the house to look for her mother. "Mama! Mama!" Libba shouted.

"What, sweetie?" Sam was kneading bread dough.

"I want a hairy chest like Papa!"

Sam dropped the ball of dough on the counter. " _What_?"

"I want a hairy chest like Papa. And hairy arms!"

Wiping the flour off her hands, Sam knelt down to look at her daughter. Libba was serious. "Libba, honey. You're a _girl_ and you will never have hair on your chest or arms like Papa does. That's another difference between boys and girls. But there's one thing that you will be able to do when you get married that Young will _never_ be able to do."

Libba's eyes widened. "What?"

Sam smiled. "Have babies."

"I want a pony instead," said Libba as she ran out to the barn. Babies didn't impress her much.

Adam leaned against the door frame, toothpick in his mouth. "That certainly went well," he said drolly.

Sam threw a piece of dough at her husband. "I wish children were born with an instruction book so I'd know what to say and do."

Adam peeled the wad of dough from the door jamb, walked over to Sam and kissed her. "You're doing just fine. We're all learning as we go." He plopped the dough into her hand. "Let's go to town today. You've done a wonderful job of cutting Young's hair, but he has been wanting a haircut at the barbershop. You and Libba can shop for a while and then we can have lunch."

Sam smiled. "Give me a minute. This dough needs to be covered. It will rise while we're gone."

"I'll hitch up the wagon and round up the kids. Meet you outside in a few minutes." Strapping on his gun and putting on his hat, Adam headed outside.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Can I hold the reins, Papa?" Young asked when everybody was seated in the buggy.

"Not all by yourself, son," Adam replied. "We can hold the reins _together_."

"When can I hold the reins all by myself?"

"When you get a little older, son."

"I wish I would hurry up and get older," Young sighed. "But today I'm going to a real barbershop!"

"Me too!" chortled Libba.

"No, Libba," Sam said gently. "Girls don't go to barbershops. Only _men_ do."

Libba poked out her tongue. "I wanna have _fun_."

"Don't you like to shop with me?" Sam asked, her nose wrinkling as she smiled.

"Yes, ma'am. We can buy cloves?"

"If we find something that we like, then we can buy _clothes_ ," Sam answered.

That seemed to satisfy Libba. Adam started singing a song and everybody joined in until they got to Virginia City.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sam kissed Adam on the cheek before he and Young headed for the barbershop. "Let's meet at the International House for lunch in an hour," Sam suggested. Adam nodded and took Young's hand as they headed off in the opposite direction from Sam. As father and son neared the barbershop, Young sped ahead and ran in the door. He came out, his face white as a ghost.

"Papa! We can't go there! Mister Rankin is trying to _kill_ somebody!" Young was out of breath.

Adam had no idea what was going on, but he loosened his gun in its holster. Just in case it was needed. "You sit right here and don't move. I'll be right back."

Young did as he was told. And his father returned quickly with a smile on his face. "It's okay, Young. Mister Rankin isn't trying to kill anyone. Let me show you what's going on."

Young, still frightened, took Adam's hand and walked into the barbershop.

"Good morning again, Phillip," Adam said in greeting, a smile playing about his lips. "My son and I would like to have haircuts today."

Phillip Rankin looked at Young – the boy was a carbon copy of his father. "Have a seat, Adam. I'll finish with the sheriff here and will be right with you."

Young squeaked. He didn't see Sheriff Coffee anywhere. All he saw was a man leaning back in the barber chair with his face completely covered by a big towel with steam coming out of it.

"'Morning', Adam. Did I hear you say you brought Young with you?" Roy's hand lifted in greeting.

"Young is getting his first 'grown-up' haircut today," Adam said as he sat down. "But I must say, you and Phillip gave him quite a scare. He saw you with the towel on your face and thought that Phillip was _killing_ you."

Both Phillip and Roy chuckled as Phillip unwrapped the towel from Roy's face and pushed the chair upright.

Young looked very confused.

Phillip explained. "I put the wet, hot towels on Sheriff Coffee's face to make his beard softer. It makes it easier to shave that way. Now I put on some shaving soap and start to shave his face."

Young was both relieved and entranced as he watched Phillip apply the shaving soap and then deftly use the razor. When this process was done, Roy walked over and shook hands with Adam. And then he shook hands with Young. Young felt very grown up. Roy left and Young climbed into the waiting chair. And he was very good while Phillip cut his hair. Adam had only had to tell his son one time to stop wiggling. When the cutting was done, Phillip handed Young a mirror so he could see the results. Young was proud – he looked like his Papa with his black wavy hair cut in basically the same style. As Young got out of the chair, Adam sat down and had his own hair cut. Young didn't sit down again. He leaned against the wall as he watched. He had inherited another of his father's characteristics to go along with the way Adam crossed his arms and the way he walked.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Meanwhile, Sam and Libba were looking at different things in the store. Mindy came in, with her very pregnant tummy preceding her. She and Sam hugged each other happily. Mindy ran her hands through Libba's hair. "Honestly, Sam, this child gets prettier every day."

Sam smiled. "She's such a blessing."

No sooner had Sam spoken than Libba piped up. "Miz Barton's _fat_."

Mindy laughed out loud as Sam gaped and blushed. "Mindy, I'm _so_ sorry. Libba didn't mean that the way…"

Mindy continued to laugh. "Don't worry, Sam! Do you know how often I hear that from other children? Mostly they say it behind my back, but the truth is the truth. I _do_ look fat. It's hard for a child to know the difference between being fat and being pregnant."

"Preg'unt," Libba parroted. "What's that?"

Sam knelt down, hearing Mindy's giggle, and said, "'Pregnant'. It means she's going to have a baby. She carries the baby in her tummy and that's what makes her look different. I looked the same way before you and Young were born."

Libba stared at Mindy's tummy. "Does it hurt?"

Mindy hadn't stopped laughing. "No, Libba, it doesn't hurt. Not at all. It just looks funny."

Libba lost interest and began looking around the store. Sam told Mindy the story about Young, Libba and the "worm." Mindy laughed til she cried.

"I just came in for a pickle or two," Mindy said, wiping the tears from her face. "You two have really perked me up. Frankly, I'm tired of not seeing my feet and being constantly kicked at night. I can't remember when I had a good sleep."

Sam nodded. "I understand. I'm so glad I got to see you. Let's get together as soon as you feel like it."

Mindy bought a whole pickle jar and winked at Sam. They hugged again, and Mindy left. Sam found Libba looking at a jar of candy. Libba looked up at Sam. "Was I bad?"

"No, honey. You just didn't know." Sam smiled at her precious daughter.

When the two left the store, Sam had patterns and cloth to make dresses for Libba and her doll and a few yards of cloth for herself. Libba had a small bag of candy to share with Young after lunch.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sam and Libba entered The International House and found Adam and Young already seated and waiting.

"What do you think, Libba? These men look very handsome. Do you think they'll let us sit with them?" Sam winked at Adam.

Adam rose to his feet and prompted Young with a whispered, "A gentleman always stands up when ladies come to the table."

Young stood up. He so wanted to be like his father. Adam pretended to hesitate. Then he spoke to his son. "Young, here are two lovely ladies whose company we could enjoy. Shall we ask them to sit with us?"

"Yes, sir!" Young answered, getting into the swing of the game.

Adam took Sam's hand. Young watched and took Libba's hand. Adam spoke for himself and for Young. "Would you lovely ladies like to join us for lunch? The food here is quite good."

"Why, we would be most delighted. Thank you very much." Sam spoke, but Libba giggled.

Adam pulled a chair out for Sam to be seated. Young did the same for Libba. He intuited that this was another thing that a "gentleman" did. Adam pushed Sam's chair gently under the table. Young tried to do the same for Libba but almost turned the chair over in the process. Adam grabbed it just in time to steady it without being too obvious. Libba continued to giggle and soon had Sam giggling too.

"Young, your haircut makes you look grown up," Sam praised.

"Sheriff Coffee had a towel on his face." Young looked at Adam.

"Well," Adam explained, "Phillip had put a hot towel on Roy's face and reclined the chair. It looked like Phillip was trying to kill Roy. But he was just softening Roy's beard." Though Adam didn't elaborate, Sam read between the lines. She imagined how Young must have interpreted that scene.

The menus were already on the table. Adam and Young had already made their choices, and Sam and Libba quickly made theirs. The waitress took their orders and hurried to the kitchen. Adam and Sam put their napkins in their laps. Young and Libba did the same. It was plain that they wanted to copy their parents' every move. And, when Henrietta and Thelma stopped to say hello, Adam stood up. So did Young. The two women were righteously impressed.

"What wonderful manners!" exclaimed Henrietta. "It's so nice to see well-raised children these days."

"And what beautiful children they both are," gushed Thelma. "I can't wait to tell Drucilla and Delmas!" The two women trotted off to a nearby table and sat down. They both agreed that the children were exceptional. Unfortunately, a rather obese Mrs. Brandt and her husband happened to pass the table where Sam and Adam were seated.

Up jumped Libba with glee. " _Preg'unt_!" she shouted and pointed at a very prim and proper Mrs. Brandt.

Sam pulled Libba back down into a seated position, but the damage was done. Waddling to the table, Mrs. Brandt glared at Libba. Adam and Young rose to their feet, but they were ignored. "I am most certainly _not_ pregnant. What a coarse and vulgar word you've taught your child," Mrs. Brandt spat, glaring at Sam.

Libba didn't like this lady's attitude. Adam and Young both looked confused. So Libba spoke. "Not preg'unt? Then just _fat_?"

"Horace!" screeched Mrs. Brandt. "Say something!"

"Let's go sit down, dear," was all Horace could think of to say.

"Not until I get an apology!" Mrs. Brandt maintained.

Sam spoke quietly but with authority. "I make no apologies for what my daughter said. She is just a child and has yet to learn the difference between being pregnant and being overweight. And, for your information, the word 'pregnant' is the correct terminology for being 'with child'. She may have been confused about the first description of you, but she wasn't confused about the second one. Now, if you'll excuse us, our lunch is being served."

Mrs. Brandt's face went florid, and her mouth opened but no words came out. Horace grabbed her by the arm and propelled her across the room to a table.

Adam and Young sat down. Adam looked at Sam. "You realize you just insulted the wife of the president of our bank." But Adam didn't look angry.

Sam shrugged. "She's an insulting woman. She could've handled the situation in any number of other ways."

Young jumped to Libba's defense quickly. "She _is_ fat!" He had followed what his mother said closely and thus had figured out what "pregnant" meant.

Adam choked on his lemonade. "I think you'd better tell me what your day has been like. Libba's learned a new word and I'm curious to know where it came from." He grinned his lop-sided grin.

Sam recapped the meeting and the conversation with Mindy from the shopping trip. Adam put his napkin over his mouth so he wouldn't laugh out loud.

"Mama?" Libba asked. "Was I bad?"

"Certainly not, honey," Sam replied, stroking Libba's cheek. "But a good thing to remember from now on is to not make comments about anybody. There are fat people and skinny ones. Tall ones and short ones. Ugly ones and pretty ones. There are some who have a different color skin. There are some who can't walk without crutches or are sitting in a wheelchair. There are some who can't talk plainly. But they all have feelings, and I know you wouldn't want to hurt those feelings on purpose. These are things that you and Young should both learn."

"She still is fat," Young piped up. "Is it okay if we tell you and Papa that?"

"If you whisper it so quietly that nobody else can hear. No pointing at people and then whispering. People know when they're being talked about." Adam's voice was gentle.

After lunch, Young and Libba, watching their parents, folded their napkins and put them neatly on the table. It was time to go back home.

Thanks to Henrietta and Thelma, this particular story spread like wildfire through Virginia City. It was certainly good for a laugh.


	5. Chapter 5

Susan and Rob returned from their vacation and were thrilled to receive such warm hugs from the children. Susan had brought back a small silver necklace for Libba – which she immediately wore – and a real deerskin shirt for Young – who peeled off the shirt he was wearing and donned the new shirt. Both children were ecstatic, and Susan and Rob were very touched at the kids' reactions. Rascal ran in circles and barked.

Inside the house, Susan listened – and laughed – while Sam told what had been going on during the Dods' absence. Susan told about the trip to the Indian Reservation and sadly shook her head. All of the Indians had been great nations unto themselves, and now they were stuck on reservations – their old world lost to them and having to face a new world ahead of them.

Sam was sympathetic. "We can't undo what's already been done. But we can hope for – and work toward – a better tomorrow."

The conversation changed to small talk and then Sam asked a question. "You told me that I would have twins. Do you still believe that?"

Susan smiled wisely. "It's true, Miz Sam. But the time is not yet right. You and Mister Adam are learnin' right now. The babies'll come when you least expect it, and you'll be better prepared to handle every situation. Take this time and enjoy your husband. The Great Manitou will give you babies at the right time."

Adam's mind wasn't on babies right now. He and Rob had to discuss the expansion of the bunk house. The Pines needed more ranch hands. Fences needed to be mended; line shacks needed to be stocked. Adam had stayed close to the house while Susan and Rob were gone so he could help with the children. He was ready to get out of the house now and tend to things he knew about instead of delegating jobs to the ranch hands.

Rob grinned. "Children are a blessing, but they see and say the strangest things."

When Adam told Rob about the things that the children had said or done, Rob laughed heartily. How could he _not_ laugh?

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Weeks later, Adam was taking a nice, hot, quiet bath when Young and Rascal came into the room. When Rascal saw the bathtub, he ran away. He had decided to hate baths.

"Can I take a bath with you?" Young asked. "Mama says I smell like a old barn."

Adam didn't stop to think that there would be a problem. He never deliberately hid his nudity from his son – Young just wasn't around when Adam had no clothes on. "Put your clothes in the corner to be washed," Adam directed and then made room in the tub for Young. The two played and splashed and lathered and bathed. But when Adam stood up to pour a warm bucket of water over his body to rinse off all the soap, Young grew still. And quiet. And he stared at his father.

"What's wrong, son?" Adam asked, not thinking.

"Uh, I don't look exactly like you do," Young said slowly.

Adam followed the direction of his son's eyes. In an instant, he knew what Young was referring to. "Not _now_ , you don't look like me," Adam said, not quite knowing how to handle this situation. "But, as you grow, so will the rest of you. You will have to start shaving – do you remember when we talked about that? And you will have hair on your body in different places. And then the rest of you will grow too."

"Oh," said Young. He wasn't sure if he wanted to grow up like Papa or not. The thought was rather scary. And when he told his sister what he had seen, the ever-curious Libba decided she needed to take a closer look at her mother. Libba wanted to know what to expect when _she_ grew up.

That night, after reading time and singing time were over, Libba feigned sleep. She heard her father go downstairs and heard her mother say that she was going to get into her nightgown. Libba scurried down the hall quietly on her bare feet and entered her parents' bedroom. Only Rascal heard the patter of small feet, and he followed. Sam was sitting in front of the mirror at her dressing table, clad only in her camisole and pantalets.

"Libba, honey, you should be asleep now."

"Not sleepy," Libba lied as she sat down on the big bed.

Sam wasn't stupid. Adam had told her already about the "bath tub" incident with Young, and Sam wondered if Libba might be curious enough to see a grown woman's body. But Sam had to act natural, and it was difficult under the scrutiny of her daughter's eyes. Sam stood up and reached for her nightgown hanging on its hook on the wall. Taking a deep breath, she pulled off her camisole. Sneaking a peak at her daughter, she saw wide eyes. Instead of pulling the nightgown over her head and then removing her pantalets, thus covering at least part of herself, she decided to just go ahead and get this over with. Off came the pantalets.

Libba's eyes were wide as pie plates. "Papa has a hairy chest all the way to his toes. Your hair slipped and fell down half way!"

Naked, Sam smiled. "Women never have hair on their chests. It's supposed to be this way. You'll look like this when you grow up."

"Noooooo," Libba protested. "And I like my chest _now_!"

Sam put on her nightgown and held her daughter in her lap. "You can't stop the growing- up process, Libba. When you have babies of your own, you need a way to feed them. You've seen mama cows feed their babies and mama horses feed their babies. It's completely natural. All women have breasts. God made us that way for a reason."

"Ugh!" Libba said as she slid from her mother's lap. "Not me! Not gonna grow up!" She fled out the door, her lip poking out, Rascal in fast pursuit. But Libba and Rascal sneaked into Young's room for a minute – Libba had to tell her brother what she'd seen.

"Ewww…" was Young's reply. "I'm not gonna grow up."

"Me too neither," Libba replied and then hurried to her own room, pulling the covers over her head. Rascal ran back to Young's room.

Later, when Adam came to bed, Sam related what had happened with Libba. She ended up having to put her hand over Adam's mouth to keep him from laughing so loud.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sam had kept up with her journals every day. There was one incident that was never mentioned. It happened early one morning as Sam and Adam were enjoying an unplanned, intimate moment. Rascal had wakened Young – the dog needed to go outside. Young sleepily took the dog downstairs and heard strange sounds coming from behind his parents' closed door. Rascal went outside and Young went back upstairs. The noises were louder now. He ran to Libba's room, woke her, and asked her what to do. Both children knew that a closed door meant privacy – they had been taught that a long time ago. But curiosity got the best of them and, together, they quietly opened that closed door.

What they saw appeared to be one moving lump under the covers. And the noises continued.

"Mama?" squeaked Libba.

The lump stopped moving. Sam and Adam saw two pair of wide eyes staring at them from the doorway. One lump became two distinct lumps.

"We heard strange noises," Young said.

"And you were worried?" asked Sam. She sounded out of breath.

"Uh-huh. I mean 'yes, ma'am'," answered Libba.

"Papa and I are just playing," Sam said. This was not the time for a talk about "the birds and the bees." "Did we wake you up?"

"Rascal woke me up," Young answered.

"Young woke me up," Libba stated. "And I'm hungry!"

Adam spoke. He _had_ to. Sam was shaking with laughter. "Okay, you two. Go get dressed, help each other if you need to. Mama and I will fix breakfast in a minute. Now close the door, please."

Both Young and Sam heard adult giggles. They didn't understand the reason, but they were more interested in breakfast than anything else.

"We gotta put a lock on that door," Sam said, laughing softly and wrinkling her nose.

Adam sat up and ran his fingers through his tousled hair. "Our children have extremely bad timing."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Days passed. Weeks passed. Years passed. Young and Libba learned that life could be wonderful in many ways and life could be either cruel or unfair. Animals were born, animals died. Animals were butchered for food. Winters could be fun or bring blizzards that were deadly. Spring would always bring new life. Summers could be a time for growing things or they could bring droughts that scorched the earth. Sam smiled one night as she read her journals detailing Young and Libba's growth. She flipped through the pages at random and not necessarily in chronological order, specific entries catching her eye.

From Libba's journal: _Today was Pop's birthday and we had a surprise party, just for the family, in his honor. Tomorrow, there will be another celebration at the Ponderosa – all his friends have been invited. Hop Sing sneaked out of the house and spent the morning here helping Young and Libba make their first cake. He did the measuring of the ingredients and let them do everything else. I stayed away from the kitchen. When Pop, Uncle Hoss, Uncle Joe and Hop Sing arrived, we had a wonderful supper. Then the kids presented the cake. It tilted dangerously to one side, was relatively raw in places and was overcooked in places. The icing was really the best part, but it bore signs that Libba had been licking it before it was served. She had icing up her nose. But Pop declared that it was the best and the prettiest cake he had ever had. For once, Hop Sing didn't get his feeling_ _s_ _hurt over such a proclamation. We all sang songs after supper, Libba sitting in Pop's lap with Young at his side. They love their Pop-Pop so much. How adorable they were._

From Young's journal: _Young grows more like Adam every day. He leans on everything. He walks with the same fluid motion that his father does. His hair is curly at the sides and nape and wavy everywhere else. He crosses his arms like his father and even raises one eyebrow. He definitely is his father's child! He climbed a tree today and fell out of it and broke his arm. Doc Martin had to set it, and Young was so good and brave. Adam was so proud of his son._

From Libba's journal: _Libba's maternal instincts are kicking in. Mindy, Lori and Delores all had their babies – all girls. Libba is fascinated with these tiny b_ _eings_ _. She wants to visit all the time and is allowed to sit and hold each one. She continually asks me why babies' skins don't "fit"_ _because the babies are all wrinkled._

From Young's journal: _At six years old, Young is riding a horse. Adam made sure to get one that wasn't too tall, and Young jumps out of bed every morning to spend some time riding with his father. He got thrown today and has a bad bump on his head, but he got right back on his horse (named "Freckles") and continued riding anyway. He is fearless. He has also started doing some heavier chores around the house and in the barn. I think he will have the same physique as Adam – with a barrel chest and strong body. Praise from Adam makes him puff his little chest out proudly._

From Libba's journal: _Libba has a baby doll that goes with her everywhere, but_ _Libba_ _lives in jeans. And she insists on going barefoot around the house like I do. I think she is showing signs of being quite outspoken, which she has inherited from me. She adores Young. When Young learned to ride a real horse, Libba insisted on doing the same thing. And she's very good – in a way, she's better than Young right now. She drew a picture today, not of a person or an animal, but of a house. And not a crude drawing but a very detailed one. Adam and I were impressed. Some days, she's a little girl who wears frilly dresses and tends to her dolls; other days, she's climbing trees or riding "Moonbeam," screeching like a heathen. She has fallen off her horse twice today, stamped her foot, and got boosted back into the saddle. Like Young, she is fearless._

From Young's journal: _For quite a while, Young has watched as foals and calves were born. He asks intelligent questions about the birth of animals. Adam and I give as much information as he asks for – no more, no less. Libba has watched the births but asks no questions yet. She seems to take it all in stride as a natural process._

From Libba's journal: _Libba asked about the birth of babies today. Adam and I knew that this would be a subject of interest sooner or later, so we explained as best we could about how babies were born. Libba wanted to know if it hurt, and I had to tell her that it did. She made no comment. Apparently, her greatest fear had been that a baby arrived out of a belly button. I guess that's what some of her little friends told her. Young was unconcerned – he knew that only_ _ **women**_ _had babies._

From Young's journal: _Young wants to know about how babies are made. Another family conference. Libba looked horrified. Young has no desire to even kiss a girl, much less be intimate with one. We told him that his thoughts would change when he got older. Adam and I laughed later._

From Libba's journal: _I guess Libba did some hard thinking about how the daddy plants the seed in the mommy and a baby starts to grow. Today, at the store, she was looking at packets of seeds and was inconsolable that there were none with pictures of babies on them. Young gave a big sigh and re-explained the whole process to her in the middle of a store full of people. It doesn't take long to clear a store of every human being, storekeeper included, when intimacy is discussed so openly. This was my fault. I should've told both children that these matters were not to be discussed publicly._

From Young's journal: _Young definitely has a green thumb. Everything he plants sprouts bigger and stronger than what Susan and I plant. I don't know his secret. He's going to be an excellent farmer as well as being an excellent rancher. He and Adam had a long talk about breeding horses to bring out the best qualities between sire and dam. Next year, Young will start school. He can already read and write and do fairly-complicated sums. He surprises me with his abilities. But, then, so does Adam._

From Libba's journal: _Adam was sketching pictures of an improved line shack. Libba told him he had left out two important joists._ _ **Joists**_ _? Where did she learn_ _ **that**_ _? But, she was right. Adam was amazed. And proud. He immediately made the proper corrections while Libba wandered into the kitchen to help me cook supper._

Adam climbed into bed and put his arm around Sam. He looked at the journals. "Where did the last five years go?" he asked.

"I don't know," Sam answered.

Adam put his hand gently on Sam's tummy. "Should we tell anybody?"

Sam grinned. "Not yet. Let's see which of our children notices first."

"What if nobody notices?"

"Then we'll tell when the time is right."

"We love you," Adam whispered.

"We love you, too," Sam whispered back as she covered Adam's hand with hers.

Sam smiled to herself. Susan was never wrong in her predictions. There was no reason to believe that Sam was _not_ carrying twins.


End file.
